slowly declining beaver

that can be

so utterly tiresome

and can't spell

their own name

nom de plume

nom de guerre

croix de guerre

transport de fred (tillitsdead)

Astaire and Ginger

Ale on ice

tastes like water

from the hole

of a disused

and discarded lavvy

where from afar

away away planet

inhabited by fleas

jumping around like

fleas usually do

on hardcore party's

that seemed so

plausible to do

because of the

amount of nutters

playing with their

withered rhythm sticks

wearing nothing but

another tall refill

of snake bile